Moon by Olive Senior

31 Days of Poetry: Day Nineteen.

For the month of August I’ll be participating in The Sealey Challenge and attempting to read a book of poetry every day (or at least a poem or two), and every day I’ll be sharing a poem with you. If poetry isn’t your thing, a month isn’t too long a time, I promise. But if it is, I hope this series affords you an opportunity to discover some new favourites or revisit some old ones.

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The 19th of August’s offering is ‘Moon’ by Jamaican poet, Olive Senior, which was first published in her 2005 collection, ‘Over the Roofs of the World’, republished in Hurricane Watch: New and Collected Poems (Carcanet Press, 2022).

MOON

I'm walking on this dark path overhung with hibiscus,
bougainvillea, when suddenly, am opening to the sky,
and in my face, this great, big, overpowering moon, in
silver. Thank you, Moon, for showing your most dazzling
self tonight, dimming the stars, seducing me from gloomy
thoughts, from citylight. I know it's your best face because
each month I watch you grow fat, then waste away on
some celestial diet before you disappear. No mystery
there. I know your ways. Soon a new you so svelte and
trim will start coming round again - until you lose control
and gorge to almost bursting. I can tell by your patina
on what you are feasting. This month it's the metallic you,
with hint of quicksilver, pewter, antimony. At other times,
there's the warmth of liquid amber, of honey. Though you
have never failed us yet, you tantalize with the uncertainty
of never knowing how big you'll get. That makes you
almost human. Not like that Sun who acts as if he's so
divine. I know comparisons are odious, dear Moon,
but such self-discipline is hard to stomach. He comes
showing the same predictable face day after day: no fat,
no shrinkage, no blemish. He does get a bit red and
wobbly some afternoons (bad-minded people say, from
drink!). I'd like to think it's just that sometimes the old
fuddy-duddy can't wait till he's out of sight to change into
his old red flannel shirt and relax. By doing a two-step.

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I read a report today about a rare blue supermoon that’ll be showing up in UK skies for the next few nights and this poem just felt fitting. By all accounts, the blue supermoon isn’t actually blue and it might not even be that visible so I’m not sure it’s anything to get too excited about, however- and perhaps this is the Muslim in me with our lunar calendar and moon sightings- the moon fascinates me. The way it so distinctly illustrates the passing of time, constantly changing shape and even colour, forever showing us its many angles, its presence in the sky always somehow so comforting.

I’m inclined to agree with Olive Senior that, while I fully appreciate the sun and its magnificence, there is something specifically magical about the moon.

See you on day twenty,

Tasnim

P.S. if anyone actually knows anything about this blue supermoon, please do share!

P.P.S. if you appreciate these posts and you’d ever like to buy me a coffee, you can do so here. I’d never say no and it would always be appreciated.